


Amber Lakes

by Wanderwend



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Bondage, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Femdom, Kink, Library Sex, Lots of Sex, M/M, More Sex, Multi, Oral Sex, Orgies, Outdoor Sex, Scolding, Sex Toys, Sexual Content, Spanking, Threesomes, Voyeurism, Whips, boys fucking boys, but some how there is plot, girls fuck boys, girls fucking girls, have it all, really extremely a lot of sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-02
Updated: 2012-12-02
Packaged: 2017-11-20 01:21:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/579738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wanderwend/pseuds/Wanderwend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lady Aston is a woman of land and fortune who turned her vast estate into a sexual paradise. The staff is comprised of submissives, who have given their lives to serving her needs. There is a fabulous groundskeeper who has a thing for the lads (may or may not be based on John Barrowman). Shenanigans and lube are part of life. Love and intrigue threatens everything, when a prince wanders into her life. </p><p>Reads a bit like a Jane Austen novel. But with sex. Lots and lots of dirty, raunchy sex. Pretty much everyone has sex with everyone else, regardless of gender. And there is group sex galore. And creative punishment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

In the rambling wilds of the Lake District, there is a large country estate that goes by the name of Amber Lakes. It is the seat of the Lady Aston. She is the most esteemed patroness of the arts and a graceful woman of the peerage. Though she is a woman of greater years than the willowy belles paraded about during the season, there is no Lord in her life.

Lady Aston leads a particularly unique life, a mistress of a harem of middling size.  
In fact the estate is staffed and run by her submissives, member of her harem.  
The lady has crafted the estate to by spectacularly functional for her most wicked ends. From the dungeon in the tower, to the sculpture garden that is populated by submissives in nude poses on fair days.

The day-to-day staff of the house complete their tasks in the quite manner of those who are well trained in every manner of the phrase. Submissives take on the tasks of everyday functions on the estate.

Spanking is a regular occurrence, and every room has a different capacity for performing this. In fact, several punishments are a regular matter that must be attended to with the greatest dedication.

The Lady is most often found in the library or the gardens in fair weather. She has an immensely busy household to run, though the day to day running of the household is left to Sir Dominic Simon Asgard, a man of great repute and no sexual inclination to speak of. He does have a wicked disposition in the handling of the Lady’s household disputes, having no qualms in dispatching a well placed whip or cock cage.


	2. Chapter 2

Day to day life is a picture of idyllic country life, though the livery of the stable boys includes tails of their own (the fact that they are attached to anal plugs is simple a minor detail). The maids clean, the cooks feed the large estate from the gardens that are cared for by the grounds staff. Guests may come to stay and make use of the extensive grounds and their staff as well. The occasional lifestyle party is also not unheard of.

A writer resides in the west tower. She is a longtime companion of the Lady, her partner in many adventures since their youth.

The Lady herself has a pet that she is partial to. A tall, lithe creature with large eyes and a sweet disposition, though her pet spends a great deal of time with a ball gag about her fine lips for her insolence. The Lady is particularly fond of her pet, Mair, and gives her slightly more leeway that the rest of the staff. Mair is given almost total freedom to roam the estate and do what she wishes, but must do so in her chosen outfit for the day. This rule has put Mair in some particularly amusing situations where she has gone boating or hunting in little more than a garter belt, stockings and a soft lounge bra.

The responsibilities of Mair are few, but important. Her main duty is to serve her Lady in whatever needs she might have, be it sexual or practical. If the Lady is out of the house, which happens regularly, Mair is given leave to entertain herself has she wishes. Though when her Ladyship is in, Mair must attend to her almost constantly. When the mistress has company over, Mair is often called upon keep her mistress’ lap warm, or entertain them with tricks. No matter what, she never takes off the delicate silver collar.

Punishment for her infractions are much more severe and far reaching that the other members of the household, Lady Aston once made Mair eat and drink only from her hand for three days when she found Mair allowed a guest to play with her without permission. Such things are not commonplace, though. The Lady dotes too much for such things to happen with any regularity.


	3. Lady Aston Return Home

The season was changing from spring to summer as the Lady returned to her country estate. She had been in London for some time, dealing with art gallery openings and business ventures that she supports. Though her expansive flat in Hampstead, the country air was much more agreeable to her.

The Bentley smoothly rounded the last bend to put the manor house in sight and the Lady breathed a sigh of relief. She put down her iPhone and reached up to the front seat to squeeze the shoulder of the driver. He was a tall, built chap in a very tight fitting suit who smiled broadly at her affection.

"It is so lovely to be back, Jason," the Lady said, ruffling his hair. The driver frowned playfully at her, then caught her hand and kissed it reverentially.  
"I have waited so long to worship at your feet, my lady. We have all missed your presence," he told her in a low, gentle voice. The lady cooed over him for a moment more, then went back to her iPhone.

Her ladyship's entry to the house was the scene of something that looked like a cross between mobs normally reserved for rock stars and the reverential treatment of the Queen.

The first person her Ladyship looked for was her pet, who she had to leave at the house for this trip. Her time was almost entirely occupied by business and what little time the Lady had was occupied by a very old and dear friend who was in the country for the fist time in a decade. Safe to say that they made the most of their time together, the little that they had.

"My darlings!" the Lady exclaimed, and gestured for them to rise.

They all rose at once and swarmed for her attention. In the middle of the scrum, the Lady was laughing. Sir Dominic appeared at her side, ushering the many excitable submissives to the large terrace off the grand hall.

They gathered pillow covered terrace, queuing up for her attention as she sunk down onto a chaise lounge. Mair made her appearance, gliding up the stairs from the garden. Her face was a study in thoughtful disinterest; watching as her mistress granted kisses to the lowest stable boys and maids (who were quickly passed off the their superiors for further play), to the head gardener, on whom she performed rather enthusiastic fallatio unpon his person. 

It was not the most uncomfortable sight she could think of, but Mair does not particularly enjoy seeing her Ladyship’s mouth wrapped around the man who enjoys spraying her down with the hose at every possible opportunity. 

She sank down onto one of the pillows with a kitchen maid. The maid was a darling creature, barely in residence for six months. She had only been afforded a deep kiss from her Ladyship, in the tradition of their ranks. The maid, Natasha, squirms as Mair’s hand slips between her thighs and gently stroked up her wet sex. Natasha’s mouth sought out her nipple through the sheer material of her bra, sucking gently through the fabric. 

Mair sucks in a breath and gently circled her clit. The maid tips her head back and exposes her long, pale throat. It is too tempting, Mair sucks bruising kisses along the pale skin. Her teeth marks show up bright red on Natasha’s neck and Mair can’t help but biting a trail down her front down to her thigh. Natasha’s hands are wrapped in her hair as she thrusts two fingers into her cunt and sucks on her clit. Mair is gentle on the girl, barely scraping her teeth across the tender flesh. She screams out without much effort, it is pleasing to hear. 

The Lady barely spared a glance for the kitchen maid’s noisy orgasm, too engrossed in the head cook. The person of uncertain gender was currently causing her impending orgasm with skilled fingers. 

They finish without ceremony and the next person stepped up for their turn. Percival, one of the most experienced members of the staff, dropped himself on the settee without invitation. Lady Aston whips a hand out and grabs a handful of his shaggy dark blonde hair. She pull down sharply, the large man has no choice but to comply. Is bulky, muscular frame ends up in her lap. 

“Has my darling little boy been staying out of trouble?” she asks as she strokes his jaw line after releasing his hair. The soft touches and her gentle voice change his disposition in a most radical way, becoming pliant and needy. “Gabriel does not have very nice things to say about your behaviour. He thinks that you need to be turned over my knee.” 

Lady Aston turns to Sir Dominic, “Would you please fetch the paddle, Sir Dominic? My little boy needs a spanking quite badly,” she says. Her orders are issued in a gentle tone that gives no quarter. Her faithful assistant disappears into the house for a few moments and returns bearing a wooden paddle of middling size. Percival tries to track it with his eyes, but the Lady calls his attention back to her.

“Why must you always be the one turned over my knee? I am begining to think that you like it, darling,” she tell him in the same gentle voice. She teasingly pinches at his testcals and flicks his half hard penis with a fingernail. Percival whimpers softly. 

Sir Dominic returns with the paddle, and the Lady smiles congenially at him. A gentle hand encourages Percival to roll onto his front. He does so promptly. Settling himself on Lady Aston’s lap, her knees pressing into his ribs and abs. He is rewarded with her gentle hand rubbing his neck and shoulders for a moment while she consults with Sir Dominic.

“Sir Dominic, darling, would you agree that my naughty little boy deserves at least ten strikes?” she asked in a most conversational manner as the hand that was not tangling in his hair stroked the muscular lines of his buttocks. Percival shudders slightly at the touch. 

“A most suitable punishment, my Lady,” he agrees.

“Please commence, then. And dear boy,” she says, punctuating it with a tug on Percival’s hair, “do remember to count.”

“Yes, m’lady,” Percival responds, his voice barely audible as he speaks to the ground.

The blows fall in a steady, rhythmic pace from Sir Dominic. His practiced hand never too light, but just and aiming true. He has had many years to catalogue the different pain tolerances of all the members of the estate, so Percival is made to endure a pain that is just under his personal pain limit. Every crack of the paddle is counted dutifully. When Sir Dominic is finished Percival’s ass is a vibrant shade of red, with deeper purple marks. 

Lady Aston was immensely pleased with her little boy, pulling him up to be cradled in her arms. The contrast between their sizes made no difference, Percival was cuddled against the Lady’s slender frame with the same comfort as a small child as he mouthed her bare nipples. Her hand smoothed down his muscular abdomen and thumbed the head of his hard cock. 

“I am afraid I cannot do all that I wish with you, my darling boy. There are some things that only good boys may have,” she informed him as her hand pulled away. It was sticky with pre-come. “Run along now, lovie.”

Percivale pouted and stood up. He regained his normal gregarious manner rather quickly as he rejoined the knot of people lounging on the terrace in the shade of the awning. He went straight back to carousing and teasing the others in his group.

 

Half an hour later the gardener in question and one of his younger lackeys approached Mair. They grinned rather wickedly and picked her up from the pillow without any warning. Natasha moaned, bereft of contact now. The Lady briefly flicks her eyes up from the man at her feet to give Perceval a warning look.

“Be gentle with my pet, Perceval. You will not like the punishment if you are not,” the Lady says. Her tone give no quarter. His face is serious for a moment as he dips his head in submission and murmurs his agreement. He still has a squirming Mair in his arms, holding her upper half while the younger man, Peter, has a vice grip on her ankles.

They haul her over to a large outdoor daybed that is very nearly a full size bed that happens to be on the terrace. Mair is giggling by the time that they drop her on the bed. She bounces a few times and holder her arms out for Perceval. He takes a bit of a flying leap that causes her to bounce when he lands next to her, they proceed to make out while Peter watches in awe. Perceval’s broad, muscular body intertwined with Mair’s lithe limbs as they crushed their mouths together in deep, bruising kisses. The bulge of his groin presses hot between her legs, but before they get too carried away in their passion Mair slides her lips over his ear to whisper.

“Shall we have a bit of fun with the boy?” was what she asked him. The grin that stretches across Percival’s face is even more wicked than the one he wore before. 

“What sort of fun might that be?” he responded. His hot breath ghosted over his ear, causing a shiver to run down Mair’s spine. His large hands were splayed on her hips, keeping her pressed against his groin. She rolled her hips to tease him. He answered with a deep bite to her shoulder.

“Put the boy in the middle of us. Show him how to fuck me properly. He can’t learn without a... guiding hand,” she said. The smirk was evident in her voice. Percival glanced up at Peter, who was rather desperately trying, and failing, not to palm his hard cock. The boy was not wearing any trousers. None of the men were right now. When the boy caught Percival looking at him, he blushed bright scarlet right down to his chest. 

“I think you mean guiding cock. No need for beating about the bush,” he said. Percival pulled away from Mair, letting her fall onto her back. He gestured for the boy to come to the bed. With gentle arms, he pulled the nervous boy onto the bed to settle him between his and Mair’s bodies. They both set to attending him, laying on their sides, lavishing him in kisses and gentle touches. He is trapped, laying on his back with the two of them facing him.

Peter was just barely past eighteen. His enthusiasm far outweighed his skill in carnal matters. By silent agreement, Mair and Percival wrapped their hands around the boy’s rather slender cock and began to stroke. They both knew the poor thing wouldn’t last long, and for the sake of the proper experience lasting more than a few minutes, they pulled him off and kissed him gently as he came over their hands. The blush now covered most of Peter’s body. The boy mumbled his embarrassment, but was placated when told him that there was plenty more to come.

The miracle of the teenage physiology meant that Peter was hard again in about five minutes, as he watched Mair tease Percival’s erection with one long nail. Percival was far too experienced for her gentle teasing around the head of his cock to be more than just that. The boy seemed even more aroused, and not a little surprised, when Mair’s hand reached back behind Peter’s balls and toyed with the anal plug that he was wearing. She leaned into Peter’s ear when she noticed his surprise, and whispered: “there will be a cock up your ass presently.” He was now rock hard and slightly squirming as Percival played with his nipples.

The first stage of their wicked plan was to sink Percival’s cock hilt-deep in the boy’s ass. He was going to guide Peter in a most intimate and instructive manner. Supplies were fished out from under the bed. Most furniture in the house contained hidden pockets for things like lube and condoms to be stored. A tube of lube and two condoms were produced. Percival gently turns the boy on his side to face away from him and pulls the slim plug from Peter’s behind, to replace it with his lubed fingers. The boys are trained slowly, gently to be able to take thick cocks like his. He knows that he is rushing past several--two, actually-- stages of this training, but it is far too tempting. And the boy is begging, clamouring for his cock. An incoherent string of words falls from his lips as Percival gently strokes two, then three fingers across his prostate. Mair has taken one of his hands and used his fingers to play with her clit. Once Percival rolls the condom on, pulls his fingers out, lines up and eases in. The head of his cock makes it through the tight ring of muscle and Peter lets out the breath he was holding.

Once Percival is settled, balls snug against Peter’s ass, Mair strokes the boy back to full hardness and rolls the condom down his shaft. Peter’s eyes are squeezed shut and he still hasn’t managed to breathe regularly again. She presses her front against his, slings a leg over his hip. A gentle hand helps Peter slide into her wet cunt. Percival gently presses Peter forward, using his pressure against his back to direct his motions. 

They undulate in a slow, steady rhythm. Percival would pull back, slide in and use his momentum to guide Peter’s thrusts. After a few long, slow moments Peter seems to learn the push and slide between the two bodies. His young face expressed every sensation. The pace of their fucking becomes frantic, and it doesn’t last for much longer. Peter come first, the duel pleasure overloading his senses. Mair comes shortly after, as Peter presses down hard on her clit. Percival’s hips stutter as he cums last, fucking into the boy’s loose and relaxed body.

They pull apart but remain on the bed together, a picture of relaxed contentment. The other members of the estate were all in various positions of pleasure across the terrace.

High above them in the west tower, a woman watches this event with great interest. Dr. Elizabeth Mary Wembley, Ph.D. was Lady Aston’s long time companion, dating back to their formative university years. Once upon a time, they were deeply romantically involved. Their relationship morphed into one of deep love and companionship with very little intimacy as time passed. They went their separate ways for several years as Ella completed her doctorate in History, specialising in Early Modern Warfare, and the Lady took over the family estate.

After Lady Aston took over the estate when her father died, Ella was invited to live there as a retreat to work on her writing. It also kept her neuroses in check, given the limited number of people she could come into contact with any given day. London had been far too overwhelming for her, try as she might to retain her sanity and teach at London College. The north suited her reclusive habits, and allowed her to pass the entire day without speaking to a soul if that was what she wished.

Her rank in the household was equal to that of the Lady, in being the object of her emotional attachment. There is no sense of dominance or submission between the two, simply quiet companionship. At any given time, she could issue orders or take any body that she wished. This was not a privilege that she made use of often, if at all. Her sexual desire only left her wanting once every great long while. She only sought Lady Aston in her moments of need, enjoy the familiar comfort of her body. Ella was the only one who regularly called her “Adelaide” in these moments, as rank and submission did not apply to their relationship. On a few occasions, Mair has been invited to join in their play. It is a rare honour for the Lady’s pet, beloved as she is.

The Lady enjoys her company though, and has a soft spot for the woman’s voyeuristic tendencies. For her birthday one year she left the small, busty sous chef bound on her bed in the west tower. The girl was gagged, legs clipped wide open to a spreader bar and her hands tied in such a way that her hands were bound just above her wet and eager cunt. Her fingertips were swirling delicate circles around her clit, though her bonds gave her enough room to insert her fingers.. The sous chef had been given very specific instructions from Lady Aston in regards to the show that she was required to put on as the birthday gift.

Ella quite enjoyed that present. She had sat in her armchair on the opposite side of the room and watched the girl bring herself off over and over again. Watching muscle groups contract and facial features contort was one of Ella’s favourite parts of sex. The experience for the other person was her particular pleasure. When the girl had exhausted herself on her fingers she to be carried from the room by Gabriel. Ella had thanked her dear Annabelle quite thoroughly for her present when she returned from her trip abroad the next week. The sex that night had been furiously passionate.


	4. Chapter With More Sex

Mair’s disappointment in the less than warm welcome she received from Lady Aston upon her return was sharply felt. The Lady had passed her over for every other member of the household. She took to sulking in her room once she realised that the Lady was not going to take part in her company that evening, having witnessed her ascending the spiral stairs to Ella’s tower.

To her great surprise, Sir Dominic came to fetch her an hour later. She was still pouting. This amused Sir Dominic to no end. He took her by the hand and led her through the house to the dungeon. 

Dungeon is a very inaccurate word for the playroom in Lady Aston’s estate. It takes up two levels in the centre tower, the farthest place from the basement possible. Two levels of padded benches, suspension bars, a St. Andrews cross, and chains on all the walls. It was theoretically possible for the Lady to have every submissive on the estate bound up in that room at one time, but she has only done it once. To prove a point, of course. It was an even that did not need repeating. The tower became far too warm with an excess of fifty bodies in it.

Lady Aston was waiting for Mair in the very top of the tower, a large circular room with something akin to a ballet barre running around half the perimeter. Much like a ballet studio, mirrors line the walls behind the barre. She was perched on a high stool with another of the maids kneeling at her feet. Ella was sprawled on a large couch behind her. Mair had yet to truly stop pouting, this put an amused smirk on the Lady’s face.

“Darling, did you really believe that I forgot about you?” the Lady inquired, “that is not possible. Can never be possible, my pet. I simply had something special for you tonight. I didn’t want to share with the others.”

Mair crossed the room and knelt down next to Rachel, the maid already at Lady Aston’s feet, because she was a good girl and knew her place. The Lady stroked her hair and murmured her approval. Sir Dominic took his traditional position off to the side, in case he could be of any use.

“Tonight I have a treat for you. You are going to put on a lovely little show for Ella and I with Rachel. I know you will enjoy pleasing me so, pet,” she cooed. A soft hand caressed her head. 

Mair pressed back into the soft touch, almost purring at the touch. She had been worried for a loss in affection, but it was quite apparent that this was not the case. When the Lady slid her purple ball gag into her mouth and it settled behind her teeth, her world came down to the sensations playing through her body. Every touch as her Lady led her to the barre, bound her hands behind her at her lower back, especially as she spread her legs and clipped them to the posts. Her body was surrendered entirely to the whims of her Lady.

Ella was standing behind Lady Aston as she bound Mair up, holding Rachel by the upper arm. Which were conveniently bound together at the upper arm and wrist. The girl was gently lowered to kneel in front of Mair’s spread legs. Rachel eagerly pressed her face forward to press against Mair’s thigh, nuzzling as she settles on her ankles.

“Wait, Rachel. Not until I give you permission,” Lady Aston chides. Her voice is soft and barely containing a laugh, though. Rachel obediently pulls back and watches her mistress cross to an oversized sofa where Ella was already sprawled. When the Lady has settled herself in the mass of limbs, she gives a nod. “You have ten minutes to giver her an orgasm. Failure would be unwise.”

And with that, Rachel buries her face between Mair’s spread thighs and puts to use every technique she has learned in her time at Amber Lakes; kissing, sucking, gently scraping her teeth on Mair’s clit, pressing into her wet cunt with the tip of her tongue. Mair’s hips bucked wildly. 

On the couch, the spectators were not disappointed by the level of enthusiasm Rachel put forth for Mair’s pleasure. She focused on Mair’s clit, swirling her tongue around it and gently scraping her teeth against the sensitive flesh. The tremours in Mair’s legs became jarring shudders in very little time. 

On the couch, Ella was sprawled over Lady Aston’s lap. Her skirt was puddled around her hips, lacy underwear pushed to the side as the Lady’s fingers tease her clit. Lady Aston deeply enjoyed Ella’s voyeuristic streak, especially in moments like this, where she could sink two fingers into her wet cunt and watch her writhe as Ella herself watched her pet fucked mercilessly by the tongue of the maid.

In under three minutes Rachel completed her task. Mair arched against the bar as her orgasm, Rachel still continued to kiss and suck until Lady Aston pulled her back by her hair. The sub’s face was covered in Mair’s bodily fluids, glistening in the light from the window.


	5. Yet Another Chapter; in which she meets the infuriating man

Another pretentious garden party. Lady Aston stewed in her discontentment in the back corner of the large rose garden, swearing up and down that this was the last time that she would let Pearl drag her into one of these horrid promenades of pretension. Not that the Lady doesn’t appreciate a certain level of pretension, she was a dominatrix after all. 

But the aristocracy of modern Europe still thought it was 1780 when it came to their social functions. The colourful frocks may have changed shape, but the topics of conversation haven’t change beyond the standard pissing contest. “My estate is larger and more prosperous than yours,” and so on and so forth. It was dull. 

Taking another path through a new row of roses, she brooded on the decline of modern aristocracy and how she might hurry it along. Lady Aston may have been born into the Peerage, but she had little use for the complications that it added to her life. At best it was tedious, and at worst it was a complex nightmare that threatened her livelihood.

As she wended her way down a path of the sunny rose garden, this path was lined in some sort of award-winning heritage roses. This fact was entirely beyond anything that she cared about. Pearl waxed on poetically about the joys of cultivating the damn things at any opportunity, which has given Lady Aston an unreasonably deep knowledge of the flowers. She was engrossed in daydreams about the new additions to her staff and all the nefarious things that could be done to facilitate their training in the household.

The Lady was so absorbed in her thoughts that she ran into the back of a very tall and muscular man. The recoil from running into the broad back was not the most dignified moment of the day. She stumbled back, trying to keep her balance in her dainty heels. The possessor of the broad back turned around swiftly and caught her by the upper arm before she fell. 

The man was darkly handsome, tall and regal of bearing. He looked distinctly amused by her bout of clumsiness. Lady Aston gave him a darkly infuriated look as she righted herself. 

“Thank you, sir,” she said, regaining her composure. 

“Not at all, m’lady,” he says. His voice is deep, rich like chocolate. Upon further consideration, she felt that this was the sort of voice that most women would melt for. She didn’t consider herself to be such a woman, but the sharp line of his cheekbones and deep green eyes were mesmerising. A mercurial grin twists across his face, the barely perceivable lines marked his age as being but a few years older than her Ladyship’s undisclosed age of thirty-some odd years.

His three companions also look amused, one of whom the Lady recognised and being one of her less favoured members of the peerage, Earl of Wessex. They exchange questioning glances and then proceed to ignore each other. The other man is dark and aloof. 

“Lady Aston, pleased to make your acquaintance,” the Lady said, extending her hand. He took it with easy grace and brushed a kiss over her knuckles. 

“Enchante, Lady Aston. I am Prince Florestan of Monaco. I must apologise for standing in your way, you seemed to be very persistent in keeping your course,” he says.

“Please do excuse my lack of grace, your highness. I was distracted by the general splendor of the garden,” she responds quickly. Her composure was still slightly ruffled, particularly because she just ran into one of the bloody prince of Monaco and a gorgeous member of the human race. He seems to find this immensely amusing, grinning down at her with a perfectly straight, white smile. 

Charisma practically drips off the man. This ruffled Lady Aston even further. She was very used to being in absolute control, people actually cowered at her feet. She doubted the prince had actually experienced that particular joy, only hordes of women trying to bed a european playboy in a completely bland manner. The prince stepped forward and took her hand, placing it in the crook of his elbow.

“As you seem to have difficulty navigating the garden on your own, please allow me to escort you safely to your destination,” he said. His grin was charming and not at all condescending in the way the words could so easily allow. It is quite apparent that his companions are trying to hide their amusement, not to any great success. She is fairly certain that one of them says something to the effect of, “wear a condom, you birk,” as they walk past them.

The pair of them walked in silence for a time, passing through the ancient gardens without observing them very closely. The Lady never pulled away from him, letting the prince lead her through the garden without argument. This was extremely unusual behaviour for her, but she didn’t give this much thought. He was witty and charming. A commanding presence such as she rarely found. This was intriguing, having not had a partner nearly as dominant as she in the better part of the past decade. 

As they wended their way through the garden, exchanging sly glances and letting their hands dip slightly lower than society deems acceptable in public settings, the tension between them was rife. The Lady was ready to jump the man as they walked into a secluded walled garden. 

As they passed through the archway into the cool, darkly verdant space of the garden. The prince abruptly turned to catch her eyes to give her a wicked grin. The prince caught Lady Aston about the waist and pressed her up against a carved stone pillar. The Lady laughed as she was caught between his solid chest and the cool stone. She wrapped his skinny silk tie around her hand and pulled his face down to meet her own. To say that they were kissing would bring shame to those who bestow and innocent peck upon the cheek of a grandmother. The crush of their mouths was competitive, fierce and unstoppable. 

Floristan tugged the gauzy material of her dress up to her hips, fondling her ass with his large hands. Lady Aston smirked and made quick work of his shirt buttons as. His bare chest was smoothly muscled, a smattering of dark hair. The Lady kissed the crook of his now exposed neck, trailing down to his pectoral. She gently sunk her teeth into the skin and soothed the mark with her tongue. He growled deep in his throat. Her lacy underwear were quickly discarded in the most efficient manner, by ripping them off. It entered the back of her mind that they were thrown into a rhododendron bush. The thought was quickly discarded as the prince worked open his fly.

The pair of them worked in fluid symmetry, her wrapping her legs around his hips as he lifted her off the ground and pressed her smaller form against the pillar. Floristan deftly rolled on a condom while the Lady rubbed her clit as she waited. When he lined up she impatiently slid down on his thick cock.

The Lady’s immediate reaction was to dig her nails into his exposed shoulders. Floristan took this as encouragement, and proceeded to thrust into her at a steady, firm pace. The pace quickly became more frantic, and was over far more quickly than the lady was used to. 

Their separation was far from graceful, Floristan all but dumping Lady Aston on the ground. He was very smug, far from his previously charming and personable demeanor. There were few ways to put the Lady off quicker than treating an intimate encounter as a conquest, similar to planting a flag on a mountain. But that was all she could see in him. Not the witty conversationalist that had walked into the garden.

Without another word, or a backwards glance, she exited the garden and went straight back to her car.

Jason was leaning against the BMW, fiddling with iPhone. When he saw his Lady approaching with the wrath of a supernova, he opened her door and then slid into the driver seat. There was no need for conversation as he started the car and pulled out down the long gravel drive. 

Lady Aston ruminated in the back seat as the English countryside. This man was infuriating, and apparently Royal. How could she have mistaken him for anything but an inbred mongrel of the Monaco line. At least he wasn’t British, even if he was bosom buddies with the Earl of Northumbria. He was, however, enchanting. Entrancing, even. Their animosity would make for fabulous sex.

If this man had the gall to demand her presence at his gala, she would be resplendent. And torment him with the things that she possessed, and he could not. She would not bend to the will of this arrogant royal. Even if he fills out his trousers nicely.

Another Chapter, in which the Mysterious Man Makes a Move

His Highness, Prince Floristan of Monaco took it upon himself to send the Lady Adelaide Aurora Aston a token of his new found adoration. In his world, which Lady Aston could not fathom, this meant sending a tiara. A tiara that would easily be valued with six zeros in the figure.

It arrived two weeks after the fateful meeting at the garden party. A courier delivered it in a discrete wooden box. Sir Dominic signed for it and brought it into the library. The Lady barely glanced up from her Austen novel to watch his approach. When he unceremoniously dumps the box onto her lap, she swats at him with her foot. The pair of them have been known to act in the manner of small children in private moments. 

“Well, open the damn thing. The courier was a bit fussed over it ending up in your hands.” he glances down at her lap as he dropped onto the end of her couch, “guess I failed him.”

The Lady snickered and began to work open the elaborate clasp on the box. When she examined it, the intricate carving and inlay seemed to suggest that there might be something of value of it.

“You can damn well wait, you silly bugger,” she admonished. The clasp finally popped, and when the lid was raised it revealed an ornate cushion of crushed velvet. Upon it was perched a golden tiara. It glittered in the light of the windows, sapphires, emeralds, diamonds, more than likely a few stones that she could not name off hand. It was elegantly designed in the late Victorian style, swirls and filigreed high arched. It was large by the standards of most tiaras. Something that a member of the immediate royal family would wear.

“You may want to close your mouth now, darling,” Sir Dominic commented with a smirk. The lady snapped her jaw shut.

“You are a cheeky man of questionable parentage. And I cannot accept this. Do you have any idea how much this is worth?” she asked. Sir Dominic looked unconcerned with the price tag, reaching over to snag it out of the box and settle the tiara on his head. The Lady looked horrified. “The damn thing is probably valued in the millions. Why would he send me such a thing after our encounter?”

Lady Aston plucked the offending item off Sir Dominic’s head and held it in front of her face for inspection. It was even more opulent up close. Sir Dominic failed to look contrite. 

“Darling, I look fabulous in it. Also, mind the note.”

“That is entirely beside the point,” she told him as she pulled the thick, rich envelope from where it was tucked in behind the pillow. It was sealed in wax, bearing the seal of Monaco. Lady Aston deftly pried it open and removed the single sheet of note paper.

It bore the words, “Be my princess.” It was signed with Floristan’s elaborate signature, but there was no other indication of the sender. The man’s presumption was endless. She passed the note over to Sir Dominic, who had the masculine equivalent to a fit of giggles. 

The tiara was replaced in the box without Lady Aston placing it upon her own head. The box was put in the safe, along with all her thoughts of Prince Florestan.

Once that matter was taken care of, she went into the tower dungeon to take care of the lingering aggression.


	6. Another chapter, where the Lady insults a Peer

The Lady Aston swore profusely as she ascended the stairs of Rideau Palace, Mair trailing behind her at a respectful distance, knowing better than to try to calm the Lady down.  
She breezed through the grandly arching double doors without even glancing at the security staff, leaving Mair to show the rather irritated guards their invitation.

In the entrance hall, the Lady stops to compose herself, trying to tamp down her rage with the Duke. It would be indecorous to give him the what for at his own event. She knows that she must settle for making everyone as jealous as possible. With Mair on her arm, this would not be an issue. An agitated hand smooths down the front of her corset bodice and bustled skirt

When she extends her elbow for Mair to take, and her hand grips it promptly. They fall into step as they pass through the doors into the ballroom full of the peerage's most resplendent.  
An official sounding voice booms out over the din, "Her Ladyship Adelaide Aurora Aston, Countess of Westmorland and companion."

Her Ladyship Adelaide Aurora Aston, Countess of Westmorland gave a valiant effort to not pulling a face upon hearing her full title declared to all and sundry.

Mair could feel her tension and annoyance the way one feels a violent earthquake. She knows that this will be taken out on her body later, not that this is particularly an issue. Labeling it as an issue would be completely inaccurate, when her mistress channels her wrath into sex it only serves to make their interactions more intense and passionate.

They meld into the brightly coloured, flowing crowd of people. The Lady was on a warpath, a guided missile locked onto Floristan Tristan Egbert Grimaldi, Prince of Monaco. 

He was standing the middle of a knot of people, charming them with some recollection of a fishing trip with the King of Jordan. When he caught sight of her, he politely excused himself with a charming smile and stepped away from the group.

“Ah, Countess. We meet again,” he says, giving her a mock bow. This earns him a scathing glare.

“Your highness,” Lady Aston responds. Mair dips a small curtsy. The Prince flashes her his most charming smile, but turns back to Lady Aston almost instantly. He crowds her space, catching her hand to lead her onto the dance floor. The Lady pulls away and scowls at him. Her arm wraps around Mair’s waist in a gesture that is equal parts protective and defensive. 

“I would rather not spend any more time in physical contact with you than absolutely necessary, sir,” she told him. There was no menace in her voice, just cold confidence. “It would serve you well to abstain from sending me any further tokens of your generosity. I will not be persuaded by trinkets.”

Mair knows better than to try to get in the middle of such scuffles this. She keeps her eyes down and let herself be held. The pair of them pulled away from the group. They make the rounds through the assembly, pausing for more deeper conversation on multiple occasions. After nearly two hours of this forced socialisation Lady Aston gives Mair leave to mill about at her leisure. The Lady was in the middle of a long winded discussion about topics specific to the peerage, Mair couldn’t be bothered to pay attention. This led to her wandering over to the table laden with food. Delicate cakes and pastries were arranged in artful spirals, almost too lovely to be consumed. Perseverance in such matters is extremely important, Mair thought to herself as she reached for one of the delicate china plates so she could help herself. 

A tall, suave man was standing on the other end of the table. Mair gave him little notice until he was standing between her and the treacle tart. Once the man realised the obstacle he was presenting to her, he stepped aside with a grand air. When she had procured herself a reasonable portion of the sweet in question he moved into her space and introduced himself to her.

“I don’t believe that we have been introduced, I am Edward McDonald, Earl of SOMEWHERE IN SCOTLAND,” he said as he took up her proffered hand. He dipped his head down to kiss her knuckles rather luxuriously. Mair had very little idea of how to respond to his advances, knowing that this could put her in the way of a severe punishment later on.

“Really Edward, must you salivate all over her hand. Though they are divine-- I am intimately acquainted with how lovely they are-- they are not yours to moisten,” the Lady broke in. She saved Mair from having to formulate an awkward response to the young man. The relief was written across Mair’s delicate features as her mistress stared down the over eager lad.

“And who are you to speak on the matter, Lady Aston. I don’t suppose that this fine woman belongs to you?” Edward quipped. This earned him a satisfied smirk.

“In fact, she does. I would suggest that you refrain from salivating on my partner in future,” the Lady responds. Her arm wraps tightly around Mair’s waist and pulls her away with more force than entirely necessary. 

Lady Aston quite nearly towed Mair to the disused library, pushing her into a high backed chair. From her bag, she produces silk ties and a small ball gag. Not an unusual thing for her to bring on outings with her pets. One never knows when one must administer a bit of discipline. This was not discipline though, this was the Lady taking her anger and frustration out on Mair’s willing body.

Once the Lady had tied Mair securely to the wooden frame of the chair, she pressed hard kisses to her painted red lips and followed that with the gag. It would be rather unfortunate for anyone to overhear them, as Mair had the tendency to be rather loud. Her loose skirt was rucked up to her hips, exposing the scant scrap of lace that was passing for underwear. In her haste, Lady Aston ripped them from Mair’s full hips.

“Of all the men here, you had to talk to that meat-headed, self entitled, fobbing lout,” Lady Aston snapped. Her hands were on Mair’s thighs, pressing bruises into her white skin.

Out of the Lady’s bag came one more object for Mair, a slim metal vibrator. It was turned on and set to a middling speed, then placed in a manner that made contact with Mair’s clit but gave no chance of satisfaction. Her Ladyship pulled up a large leather chair in front of Mair to observe her squirming. It was a satisfying sight, especially knowing how much Mair hated a lack of contact. 

After several minutes of watching her pet squirm Lady Aston delicately lowered herself to the floor in front of Mair’s chair. With her legs delicately folded underneath her skirt, she bent her face forward and began kissing and licking up the length of Mair’s thighs. The vibrator was taken away and turned off. 

Mair dreaded this. She knew that her Lady would hold out the pleasure for a great, long time. Keeping her on the edge for as long as possible. 

That is just what the Lady did. Her tongue swirled spirals around her clit and dipped into her wet cunt. 

“Lady Aston, what a compromising position to find you in,” a deep, familiar voice came from the shadows behind Mair. “Is the manner in which you idle away the hours with? And here I was under the impression that you enjoyed taking a cock.”

“For your information, though I can’t see why it is relevant to your existence, I haven’t any particular preference to a cunt or a cock,” the Lady said. The look on her face was that of schooled indifference. 

“It does rather seem that way,” he mused. The grin that spread across the prince’s face as Lady Aston stood and daintily wiped her face with a handkerchief was the same mercurial twist of the lips that seemed to be his trademark.

He takes up the seat that Lady Aston was sitting before. Floristan sprawls comfortably, letting his legs fall open. The Lady regards him with a cold stare. He simply flashes his most charming smile and palms his crotch. Rather unsurprisingly, he is erect in his tailored trousers.

Mair whines behind the gag, trying to pull Lady Aston’s attention back to her cunt. This protest is met with a quieting hand, slid up her thigh to her wet sex. The whining stopped when the Lady made contact with her clit. With that situation taken care of, she turned back to the aggravating prince. 

“Is there any purpose in your continuing presence?” the Lady inquired, face schooled in neutrality even as Mair moans deep in her throat. Floristan raises an eyebrow, expression one of polite interest. 

“Educational, I should hope. I have been told that my repertoire could stand expansion. You seem like an ideal tutor,” Floristan mused as he pulled his bow tie apart and opened the top button of his stiffly starched shirt. 

The muffled screams of Mair grow louder, and pulls Lady Aston’s attention away from Floristan. She focuses on bringing her pet to orgasm before turning back to Floristan.

“That is lovely, dear. But to quote a very wise man, I do not give a damn,” she purrs as she unties Mair’s bonds and pulls her gag out. “There is a matter of my dignity that I cannot allow to be dashed once more.”

Mair rises to her feet and exits the room when bidden, leaving the feuding pair alone in the dark library. 

After her departure, the pair remained deadlocked in the dimly lit room. The Lady gracefully tucked herself into the chair that Mair vacated, delicately crossing her ankles and resting her chin on her palm. Strains of music from the party floated in, Floristan smirks and waved a lazy hand to mimic conducting the orchestral piece. 

“I must inquire as to why you are so annoyed with me. I thought we had a rather impressive fuck in the garden. And you are quite charming, besides," he said, "I thought it would be enjoyable to become better acquainted, a mutually beneficial arrangement."

"I don't see how your presence could enrich my existence," the lady replied. The implication that he was an ill-bred cretin remained unsaid.

A rustle of cotton and wool was the only warning in the dim library that Floristan had risen to his feet. His soft footsteps were muffled by the plush carpet. Gentle fingers brushed up the curve of her neck, tracing over her ear. It was an exceedingly tender gesture, followed by soft kisses. The Lady leaned into the touch before she thought better of it and pulled away.

"Why tease me so?" she asked. His soft breath was warm against the right side of her face, hand sliding down her arm.

"You are enchanting. I cannot stop thinking about our encounter. Such skill as mine is well matched with you. It cannot be denied," Floristan whispered into her ear.

"My skill is not a matter for your--" the Lady was cut off when Floristan pulled her into a kiss. A passionately lip-crushing kiss. He had come around the chair and pulled her up by her waist, pressing their bodies close. Any initial protests on the part of Lady Aston melted away as he kissed and nibbled his way down her neck.

"You enchant me, Adelaide. I meant no harm last time, I simply didn't realize what I was leaving behind," Floristan said into the crook of her neck as his tongue worked down to her collar bone. "Such divinity as yours must be cherished."

Hands roamed over the curve of Lady Aston's ass. She did not pause to think of the fact that he had used her first name, something that was exceedingly rare in her life. Her own hands were under his jacket, rucking up his shirt to gain access to his warm skin. With a firm hand to his chest, the Lady shoved Floristan back towards a convenient couch. She promptly straddled him. 

The heated contact of his wool-clad erection against her satin covered clit burned in a way she feircely wished that she could ignore. He was a hateful, horrible excuse for a human being that should not be arousing her to this level. Floristan’s clever hands found their way under her evening dress and licked up her clavicals. His teeth nipped up her neck to her jaw, causing her to squirm even more. 

“I hate you, you wreched man,” she hissed as one of his long fingers found its way under her underwear and slid along her clit.

“I doubt that. I really do doubt that,” was his murmured response as he worried her earlobe. Lady Aston’s hands had been balled up at her hips in frustration, but she uncurled them to sink her hands into the prince’s dark curls. She twists her fingers around his ringlets and tugs until he pulls away from her neck with a moan.

She was about to pull away enough to unfasten the infuriating man’s trouser’s when Floristan’s phone began to ring. He swore rather colourfully in several languages before pulling his right hand out of her underwear and reaching into his inner breast pocket to retrieve the offending device.

“You must excuse me. I would not take this if it were not of the utmost importance. It is my prime minister,” Floristan was genuinely contrite. He thumbed green button on his Blackberry to accept the call and stroked her thigh in what he hoped was a soothing manner. Lady Aston was uncertain of how to react to this turn of events, but the state that she was in was ungainly.

Pulling away from his warmth left her feeling oddly bereft. Her garments were shortly returned to their normal state and looked hardly worse for wear. Floristan tracked her with his eyes the entire time, expression still quite grim. 

As she began to walk away from him, towards the door back to the main hall, he covered the phone with one hand and turned to her.

“I appologise. Please allow me to see you agian. I understand that my previous actions my have lacked deocrum, but I wish to make it up to you,” he was on the verge of pleading. 

“Fine,” she responded, and marched out of the room.


	7. Mair Finds a Playmate

Upon their arrival to London in the early afternoon, Ella and the Lady immediately sequester themselves to their respective rooms to prepare for the opera. The pair were to see Oberto, at the Royal Opera that night. The Lady’s family were long time patrons, and it was agreed upon by all that a box is a terrible thing to waste.

Mair on the other hand, was off to see Melancholia of Titan while they are in the city. They were a particular favourite of her, and the Lady needed her high bred escort for the event. A happy happenstance that gave Mair a night free.

The band wasn’t due to begin their set until 11, but she arrived early to take stock of the crowd gathered and get a drink. White Russian in hand, she sidled up to a back wall and settled in to watch the crowd milling about. There was a heavy beat piped through the sound system, adding to the dark atmosphere played up by the dim house lights. Bodies were pressed close together in the middle of the room. Stragglers were pressed against the wall, much like Mair. 

There was a bottle blonde girl on the other side of the room who caught her eye. She was sitting at a high table by herself, idly tracing the condensation on her beer glass. The thing that was most entrancing about her was that she was wearing a very sparkly dress that accentuated her hips and rather exaggerated makeup. It was endearing, her quirkiness was so visible.

Planning a strategic attack took up the rest of the fifteen minutes before the band took the stage. The plan consisted of getting within earshot and commenting on her dress reminding her of a sketch comedy. It was very well reasoned out.

“Hi, your dress is lovely. Do you watch—” Execution was not entirely fluid, her elegant pick up line was jumbled as a large man pushed past her, “Kazbah.” She finished rather flatly.

But the girl smiled sweetly, nodding with the sort of enthusiasm that comes after a fortifying drink or two. She gestured to the seat across from her and said, “Yes! I can’t believe you figured that out. Thats wonderful. Sit with me?” Her lilting voice had an Italian inflection. 

Mair slid onto the tall bar height chair, now safely out of range of blundering rugby players. “Your dress is amazing. I can’t believe that you found something like that.”

“My wardrobe is vast and varied,” the girl quips with a wry grin.

“I would like to see more of it, in that case,” Mair gives her a devious grin and toys with her glass. It is now mostly empty, the dregs swirling in the bottom. Her hand was very close to this girl’s on the narrow table. They both extended their fingertips, letting them brush. The girl blushed bright red.

“My name is Liliana,” the girl, Liliana, shouted over the din. Mair’s grin was huge, she stuck her hand out to shake Liliana’s.

“Mair, pleasure to meet you,” she responded. Liliana gripped her hand but never released it.

“Pleasure to meet you, Mair,” Liliana demurred, looking up through her lashes. Mair’s breath caught in her throat. The girl jumbled the Welsh pronunciation badly, but in her Italian accent it was endearing. Their hands were still clasped. Seeing an opportunity, Mair pulled the girl closer. Close enough to brush her lips against the girl’s ear to whisper, “You are beautiful,” and softly pressed her lips against Liliana’s.   
The chaste kiss quickly turned into something much more heated. It was apparent that the girl did not have very much experience, but made up for it in natural talent. Liliana’s lips were soft and urgent against Mair’s, no tongue but all heat. 

They stayed pressed together until the first chords of the opening song. They startled and split apart, taking up their former positions a few feet apart. Liliana frowns for a moment, then shifts her chair over to be pressed against Mair.

The pair of them listen to the set with their shoulders pressed against each other. There was no other contact, but Mair was intensely aware of her rate of respiration. 

A time later the band finished their set and filed off the stage for intermission. Mair slid off the chair and turned to find the restroom. Liliana was watching her scan the room.

“Do you need assistance in finding the restroom?” she asked. Mair nodded. Liliana held out her hand and grasped Mair’s in her own. The pair of them plow through the crowd, utilizing their elbows and shouted when needed.

The bathroom was surprisingly empty, a few women applying lipstick and gawking at themselves in the mirror. Mair and Liliana glanced at each other with mischievous eyes.

“Care to join me?” Mair asked as she gestured to an open stall. Liliana hesitated for a moment, biting her lip. Mair crowded into her space and bent down to kiss the shorter woman’s neck. “I promise I am very good at what I do. But only if you want to.”

“Oh, I want,” Liliana responds, pressing her hips into Mair’s. They back into the stall, fumbling to close the door around their intertwined bodies in the narrow space. The lock clicks into place.

Liliana leans back against the stall wall and pulls Mair’s hips to match up with her own. They are closely matched in height, giving them ease in kissing and grinding their bodies together. Hands explore curves. Their kisses became more desperate and the building tension make the need for more friction urgent.

Mair slid her left hand down the sequined dress and rucked up the hem to reveal a pair of lime green cotton knickers. It startled a laugh out of her to see such plain underwear under the glittering dress.

“Sorry, they are all that was clean...” Liliana chokes out as Mair skims her hand over the embroidered designs in the fabric. Mair tried very hard to suppress a giggle, and found the only way to prevent this from happening was to press her face against the shockingly green underwear and mouth at her labia through the cloth.

“They come off just the same,” Mair muttered under her breath as she did just that. Liliana’s panties were on the floor before she knew just what was going on. Mair didn’t waste any time: gently nudging her legs apart, reassuring her with a wicked smile, and leaning in to lick a wet stripe up her right thigh. Liliana smelled good, heady of sex and Mair wanted to taste it. Her hands slid up her thighs and came back down to dig her nails into the firm flesh.

Liliana’s hand ran through Mair’s long, dark hair, fisting a handful to guide her face to her cunt. Mair nuzzled into the warm, wet space and flicked her tongue over her pink clit. The gasp that escaped from Liliana’s lips was divine. She squirmed and bucked her hips forward. 

“Do that again,” she whimpers, “please, Mair.”

Mair, being nothing if not obliging, sucked firmly on the nub of flesh and spread Liliana’s legs a bit farther apart to give her tongue easier access. She kissed and licked and sucked until her jaw was sore and tired, but Liliana kept whimpering for more. Her incoherent trail of half completed sentences were things like “I can’t believe this is my first time,” and “how have I been missing out on this glory.” Mair was rather surprised that this was her first sexual encounter, if the ramblings were to be taken seriously. 

Liliana took a great deal longer than Mair was used to to achieve orgasm, but when she did, it was glorious. Her whole body shaking and her moans barely stifled. Mair was deeply proud of herself as the woman shook to pieces under her tongue.

They pulled apart rather awkwardly. Mair wiped her mouth on the back of her hand, grinning up at Liliana. Her eyes were still fluttering as she breathed through the afterglow. Both straightened out stiffly, rearranging clothing and failing to be presentable.

They tumbled out of the bathroom and back onto the dance floor. They lasted another half hour before Liliana was tired and asked to leave. Mair was surprised that she asked, and took this to mean that Liliana desired her accompaniment on the way home. 

The night was a cool autumn night in London, but the car was waiting for Mair at the curb. She turned to Liliana and hesitated before she began to speak. 

“Would you like to come back with me? My living arrangement is... unique. But I live in a lovely house. You would be very comfortable,” Mair said. She was trying very hard to keep her eyes focused on Liliana’s, and not the ground. This was the first time in a great long while that she had put herself in a position to be rejected. Happily, Liliana nodded enthusiastically and clambered into the back of the BMW without any further questions. Once Mair was settled into the car Liliana snuggled up to her, resting her head on her shoulder and nuzzling her neck.

They very nearly progressed to having another round of semi-public sex before the car pulled up to the grand Victorian building in which Lady Aston kept her town flat.

They tumbled out of the sleek black car, Liliana nipping at Mair’s ear as she fumbled for her key. The housekeeper has long since gone to sleep, leaving Mair to try to fit the key into the lock with a hundred and twenty pounds of desirable female trying to drive her wild. Keys have a way of fitting into locks though, and eventually they gained entry to the house. Even made it up the stairs to Mair’s room. 

All clothing was quickly divested, littering the path from the door to the bed. The pair of them fell together onto the soft bed, and promptly fell asleep.


	8. The Awkward Morning After

Mornings after falling asleep in a stranger’s bed tends to be awkward. Awaking to find that two strange women, the woman you vaguely recollect coming home with the past night and a very dapper looking young man in a brocade waistcoat staring down at one’s naked form would seem to be a special sort of hell, Lillian thought.

Though they all had rather charming smiles. And did not appear to be angry at her presence. 

Lilliana could not quite understand what to make of the situation.

Whispers between them led her to believe that they had not yet realised that she was awake. For a few moments she was unsure what the more prudent course of action would be, to wait until they lost interest and left or to reveal herself and talk to them.

The decision was made for her, as the woman from last night gently sat down next to her. Brushing Lilliana’s hair off of her face, the woman smiled and bid her a good morning. 

“Did you sleep well? Do you remember my name?” the woman laughed after she asked the last question. “Its Mair, if you have forgotten.”

“Ah... I... Good morning,” Lilliana mumbled back. She pulled herself into something resembling an upright position against the padded headboard.

The smaller woman smiled up to the taller woman standing on the other side of the bed. 

“She would do rather nicely, wouldn’t she?” the small, regal woman asked her counterpart. Mair identified her as Lady Aston, in a soft whisper against her ear.

The taller woman-- Ella, Mair helpfully added-- smiled back in a humouring sort of manner. 

“That will have to be seen, darling. You are always so confident of their abilities before they are tested,” the tall woman said as she twisted a strand of her long, dark blue hair around her index finger. The smaller woman shot Ella an affronted look and climbed onto the bed.

“Now lie back and think of England, loveie. We are going to make you feel fantastic,” the small woman, Lady Aston, whispered as she nuzzeled Lilliana’s ear. Lilliana felt anxious to begin with, but as this woman’s hand grazed her nipples. Mair was still at her other side, licking wet stripes up her neck. The last of Lilliana’s modesty was torn from her as the Lady pulled the duvet down past her ankles and parted her legs. Seeing this regal woman between her naked thighs was a bit more than Lilliana could handle before her first cup of tea; in a fit of nervousness she began to hum the first few bars of “Jeruselam” as Lady Aston ran a hand up her thigh. 

Mair fell into a fit of giggles as the humming became singing, joining in at “the achients climb, up upon England’s mountains green.”

The Lady was not impressed. She gave them both a sour look before exiting the room with Ella and Sir Dominic. The pair left on the bed were left to laugh together.


	9. Naughty Boys do Naughty Things

In the back garden on a particularly warm and sunny afternoon in mid August, the gardeners were feeling particularly brash. The lot of them, mostly being twenty-something year old men, were rather mischievous with the house staff. The Head Groundskeeper had a soft spot for the wiley lads, remembering when he had been one of them with fondness as he aged into his forties. He had no qualms with standing back and watching them set a trap for the Lady’s favourite pet. The general feelings toward Mair were something of amusement and endearing affection, but she was exceptionally amusing to startle. She could also be counted on to throw a most amusing fit.

The lads set up a clever trap. The plan was to lure her into the formal garden, where they had been doing repairs on the grand fountain in the centre. One of the younger and newest additions to the staff was to be used as bait. He had been working with Mair personally on matters of discipline and skill. This was going to earn him a one way ticket to her displeasure, but he felt that the amusement was more than worth it.

The gardening staff assumed their positions. The head gardener, Perceval, filling the fountain with a hose. The boy charmed her into the garden, under the pretense of inspecting his work. The rest of the staff had a quick getaway planned and no less than a dozen of the house staff were crowded on the balcony above to watch.

Mair was wearing a very thin, white cotton sundress. She had been in town earlier in the day, and had not changed into her standard uniform of lingerie again. If she were to be honest, she was enjoying the feeling of the flowing skirt. Her Ladyship was not to be in for at least another few hours, so Mair had no intention of changing. 

The sweetly earnest young man found her in her study, reading. He coaxed her outside for a late afternoon walk, “to enjoy the new blooms and inspect his work.” They walked arm in arm through the extensive paths. When they came upon the garden with the fountain, he ran ahead under the pretense of checking if it was ready to be turned on, for it really “must be viewed from the proper distance.”

She ambled amiably toward the fountain and the Percivale turned his garden hose on her with full force and deadly aim. The water was cold, and though the day was hot, it was still a shock to Mair’s system. The accompanying shriek was worth the entire effort. 

Percival had to make the very quick tactical decision to beat a hasty retreat as Mair gave chase.

“Gods be damned, Percival. I am going to get your ass. I am going to get it so good,” she yelled at him.

The entire staff was caught in a collective fit of laughter. They knew that this was a most serious threat, and his ass was going to be a hot, welted red by the time Mair was through with him. Percival wouldn’t be sitting comfortably for at least a day or two. They were very happy to take pleasure in his misfortune.

Their chase trailed through the gardens and in through the open french doors to the library, where the Lady was sprawled upon an overstuffed leather couch reading a Terry Pratchett novel. She was distinctly unimpressed by the rumpus. A most fearsome expression crossed Lady Aston’s face as she rose to her feet. Ella chuckled in the far corner of the library, where she was curled up in the window seat. 

Mair and Percivale catch sight of her displeasure and fell to their knees promptly. Their eyes were cast firmly to the ground, watching the Lady’s feet cross the persian carpet to stand above them. Ella remained on her seat, surveying the impending punishment with a certain sense of glee.

“Would one of you care to explain what the bloody hell is going on? I was reading,” her scowl was the one specifically reserved for those who interrupted her sacred reading time. It was a fearsome sight, though only Ella bore witness to it. The two miscreants dare not look up. “Why are you dripping on the carpet, Mair?”

Mair bit her bottom lip before she spoke; “my lady, he startled me. I gave chase. I beg forgiveness.”

Percivale looks suitably contrite and adds, “I soaked her with the garden hose.”

The eye roll that Lady Aston gave Ella was epic. She her tone was chastising, “Of course you did. Why must these things always end at my feet? You should have sense enough to go through the kitchens by now. Ella, would you please call for Sir Dominic? Please instruct him to bring the violet wand and a paddle.”

The Lady took up her seat on the couch once more, neatly tucking her book on the table next to her tea cup. Mair and Percival remain on the floor, on their knees. They knew better than to stand before they were given leave.

It wasn’t very long before Sir Dominic entered the room with the requested items. As he settled into a high backed chair, whose purpose was solely for such occasions to those who lived on the estate, and readied his paddle. 

“Which one of you miscreants is first?” he asked.

“Percivale gave rise to this incident, he must watch,” Lady Aston responded. Ella crossed the room swiftly and tucked her willowy body in next to the Lady’s softer frame. Her amused expression belayed that she was ready to watch a show.

“Up you get then, Mair,” he instructed, and as she crawled over to bend over his knee, he added, “mind you don’t get my trousers wet.” Because her sundress was still wet and dripping on the floor. One of the maids was lurking in a doorway waiting for an opportunity to mop up the puddles it created.

With a small huff, she tugged the dress over her head. It stuck to her skin, moulding around her face as she yanked it over her head. Once it had been passed off to the indignant maid, she clambered into Sir Dominic’s lap and lay out on his knee. Her legs dangled from his thighs, ass well positioned for a firm spanking.

While this was happening, the Lady had become bored. To entertain herself, she had Percival fetch the violet wand and bring it to her. His face was a study in the cruel pleasure of their sport as the Lady twisted the power cord around her finger, regarding him in calculation.

“Stand on your knees in front of me, face Sir Dominic,” she bit out the order sharply. He complied immediately, standing on his knees so that his back and ass were in close arm’s reach to the Lady’s position on the couch. “You may begin her punishment, Sir Dominic. Ten to start with. Another ten if she moves.”  
Mair was notorious for wiggling during a punishment. Everyone in the room knew that she was going to end up with twenty strikes, no matter how hard the girl might try.

Upon the first strike of the paddle to Mair’s backside, the violet wand made sharp contact with Percival’s lower back. The next strike it made contact with his left ass cheek. Every jolt made him jump in surprise and after four he was rock hard.

True to form, Mair receive twenty lashes. Percival received at least twenty shocks along his back, shoulders and ass. The Lady stopped keeping track after a few minutes, she was enjoying the sight of him jumping. Once Mair was finished, though, she put down the wand and sent Percivale over to Sir Dominic. He received his ten lashes without flinching enough to be punished further.

After they were finished, both were sent to their rooms for the rest of the afternoon on the basis of “if you insist on acting like small children, you will be punished as such.”

The lady had a stiff drink after dealing with them, thinking about how life in Monaco would be much less complicated. Empirically more normal. Normality was lost to her before she could even establish a baseline. As she stood in the open doors leading to the terrace, which still bore the wet tracks of the earlier mischief, she thought about what it would be like to not have to be in charge of so many people, to discipline and reward more than thirty people almost every day. Lady Aston loved her estate dearly and the life she had arranged, but she had never found someone that she would consider being monogamous with, someone to dedicate her entire being into loving. That particular thought was not entirely palatable, having had multiple partners almost her entire sexual career.

Life at Amber Lakes was unique, it was home. But as Lady Aston watched the domestic staff challenge the outdoor staff to a game of touch rugby from the high window of the play room, she wondered if there might be more. If at thirty four, she might change everything that she knew. The only certain thing was that she was far too curious not to try it out.

Because curiosity was the root of all that she looked out upon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first third or so of the work. The next chunk will be put up in the next week or so depending on how nicely you ask and how many brain cells I have left after exams are through.


End file.
